crazy planet
by enticement
Summary: AU. SasuSaku. There are those people, in every boarding school, who are beautiful, manipulative and have access to everything; everyone wants to be one those people. I was their queen. Until recent unfortunate events. "Welcome to Loser Club, gorgeous."
1. ONE

**summary:** AU. SasuSaku. There are those people, in every privileged boarding school, who are incredibly beautiful, deviously manipulative and have unlimited access to _everything_; everyone wants to be those people. I was their queen. Until now. "Welcome to Loser Club, gorgeous."

**the note:** prepare for the bullshit, please. this is my newest creation and I hope _this time _it will roll and rock and other shit. also, it has an unexpected twist – so don't you think right now "gosh, another stupid generic story about high-school". well, you can think that _after _you will read the chapter. when your true opinions can be formed. now, go on – read.

**disclaimer:** do not own.

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**crazy planet**  
—ONE: _"ouch!" is an appropriate thing to say when you hit rock-bottom_

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I tapped the commercial back in September, before anything had happened, and promptly forgot about it – if I remembered every little commercial or photoshoot I had my head would have cracked a long time ago as I was booked years ahead – but now it feels like my last modeling job. A week ago, it started running and, suddenly, I was everywhere. Again. Just like old times.

_As if_.

Now here, in my new dorm, I sat on the edge of my single-bed, long fingers entwined so tight my knuckles turned white, trying to force myself press the off-button on the TV, the volume of which was turned down to mute. I stared at myself on the screen, the image while wasn't wobbly painted the commercial green, frantically trying to find any difference between on-the-screen-me and currect-loser-me.

Unfortunately there was none. I am still a model – tall, thin, and beautiful. Like all members of my family the on-the-screen-me is super-poised and maintaining her cool – the sort of cool that can't acquire by being part of in-crowd or wearing the latest Marc Jacobs designs, you have to be born with my sort of every-guy-wants-and-every-girl-wants-to-be cool – as she strolls down the curved street in her sky-high heels and supertight black dress promoting the new sweet flower-based perfume and nearly breaking necks.

In moments, I knew, the on-screen me would smile deliciously, cover her mouth flirtatiously and barely whisper, as if it is a secret, the name of the perfume she is selling; but I didn't wait for that. Instead, I scrambled the pieces of my nostalgia and clinched onto my drifting pride, so I picked up the remote and turned the on-screen-me off, and headed out of the door.

***

"I am okay. I am okay. I am okay. I _am _okay…" It's a mantra I keep repeating and it is imprinted forever in my mind, so I scarcely now notice when I say it. There is no denying it. Things are a completely shit and reluctantly I wonder if my life would have been easier right now, and my friends would have stayed by me, if I wasn't a total controlling bitch to everyone before.

Before.

God, I hate that word now. It's making my top ten hated words of all time; number three, perhaps, right under "hip" and "neat", and above "princess".

The hot water is running, in long continuous strides, down my pale bare back; there is a queer intimacy of all this – the thick steam that whirs under the bright lights of bulbs, the droplets of water that slid down the chilled mirror and the complete whiteness of the bathroom.

The only thing I am missing to become a porno star is French-tips and a guy that is packing big.

But really what makes me uncomfortable is that the bathroom is so bare. There are no windows or big bathtubs. Only a shower, a toilet and a sink. It felt like I am in prison but I might as well be. The only reason why I wasn't swept by broom of harsh justice like the rest of my family was because our family lawyer was able to convince the judge that neither me nor my mother nor my sister were involved in my father's schemes.

And I, being a sixteen-year-old minor, should not face any consequences while my mother suffered by being stripped of all of her assets and forced to work – and mind me she is not as dewy as she was twenty years ago when she was a famous swimsuit model. My sister, I think, suffered the most. She got kicked out of her dream university and now she plans apply to state, as it is not too late to do that, and work part-time as a waitress.

Frankly the Dean was merciful due to my incredible unblemished record, and the fact that I am a legacy after all didn't hurt, and put my on full scholarship so I would be able to stay in school as mother had no resources to pay for it.

I'm a scholarship student.

Ugh.

I elongated my neck, tilting the heavy head backwards, and let the warmth of water consume me. Until three months ago I was living the perfect life. I was born into old-money privileged family in which good-looks were as natural to have as having skin over your flesh. My father supplied the family thoroughly and we got all of our heart's desires.

Potentially unlimited access to money, unsupervised wild parties from dusk to dawn, the latest fashion trends my closet weeks before the official release, neglecting parenting that allowed bulbby before noon, a laid out path to the best universities.

Life could not be better.

I was a high-fashion model who kept the entire school in her iron fist by being from the one of the oldest families and in the best dorm in the Academy – Sunagakure. I liked to think of myself as the Queen Victoria-esquire being the Queen myself and all.

Guess karma does exist and it bites you in the ass. Hard.

The whole shebang had started roughly three months ago. Around that time police started visiting my father frequently and ever more than them our family lawyer did. It wasn't till nearly the end of it some light was shed on the mystery for me.

Father, apparently, had stolen a great deal of money from very angry men who might as well have torches and screamed: 'Burn the witch!' After the cat crawled its way out of the bag all the secrecy got blown up into our superbly bone-structured faces. My mother was not called to be on the many comities she usually participated, my father flashed all over the papers in hand-cuffs and my sister went into deep depression.

I got put down like a dog.

The moment my social armor cracked the power-hungry vixens I kept around as my posse rebelled against me and managed to overthrow me. I found no comfort in either my boyfriend or my roommate, and after the whole scholarship news I knew what was coming.

It still hurt when it did.

The new Queen Bee – a total unclassy skank that had her eyes set on my place for _years _– told me to pack up and leave my current dorm. It felt like I was leaving home – Sunagakure was one of the few places that I loved, and the power that being one of the Sunagakure girls was intoxicating and I got so addicted over the years that it had set in my bones.

I had no idea how to survive outside of the privileged, glossy and intimidating world. Holly mother of fuck was I in big shit.

Once outside of the bathroom – my long hair still dump and pulled into a high ponytail and figure clad in the Gant patterned cashmere dress – I bit my lip and pushed my phone into the space between my black riding-boots and the flesh of my shin, as there was enough space in between those, just in case; you never know when you are going to need that Sidekick.

Careful enough not to wake my new roommate, a weird girl who is obsessed with chemistry, I am not kidding here, I sneaked out stealthy. It was an insanely early hour but I have to get out. There is some unfinished business that I have.

***

It's rather odd to be _not _part of something. I suppose I'm still on the horse-riding team and still a student of one of the most prestigious schools in the whole county, but what I am not is a part of the most respected dorm in the Academy; I am not part of the cool-kids table now.

I suppose it matters little to a person who is less self-absorbed than me but that would be a tiny percentage of this school – here, our status is more important than anything.

Mine is crawling on the dirty floor and being stepped on shamelessly.

In the early moments before dawn I creep about the campus shaking from the late-autumn chill even though my coat if wool and knee-length. I am coming back from my 'Mission Impossible'. A few moments earlier I left my Konohagakure dorm and sneaked into my previous one. I slid into the common reading room and took an extremely precious book that rightfully belongs to me.

Alright, I stole. Whatever. The only thing it says about my character is that I am like my father.

The new Queen Bee has no idea about it, in fact, only two people know about it – me and my used-to-be best friend. The book itself matters not, but it has a hollow compartment in which a small USB lies that holds all the dirt on anyone who matters in this school – and that is a lot of people.

Who said revenge is meaningless?

"What are you doing here?" A voice asks and I turn on my heels, eyes wide like a deer caught in traffic.

Before me in all his six-feet-five tall glory a guy stands; I feel rather intimidated and with my five-feet-eleven divine tallness it's hard to scare me shitless – he managed somehow. "Oh God. You scared me. I thought you were somebody important."

I caught my tongue immediately. Shit. Years of being a bitch does thing to people – I started to believe I was indivisible. But wasn't. Neither physically nor socially and this guy clearly can hurt me both ways. A frown quickly crossed his features but then his face returned to its impassive state.

He is not cute, neither is he average. Calling him beautiful is a far stretch but there is certain eerie handsomeness about him; perhaps it's the strong angles, or the long scar on his right cheek, or his uneasy black eyes but he is oddly appealing in the sense he is not beautiful. Not perfect. I suppose he is simply not me; and that is good.

"Haruno Sakura, right?" His voice isn't smooth and boyish, it's deep and crispy and totally _him_; I find him creepier by the second. "I do believe you have what I need the most."

Oh. My. God. He's not about to—

"I am making you a proposition you cannot refuse."

He did. How _lame_.

***

**the ending note:** there is certain vanity and shallowness in my **crazy planet**!Sakura. And I think I like it.

And this is not going to be too complicated. A rather normal-length fic with some mystery on the side, perhaps. I appologise for grammar mistakes – I will fix this later.

Please comment via review. :)


	2. TWO

**summary:** AU. SasuSaku. There are those people, in every privileged boarding school, who are incredibly beautiful, deviously manipulative and have unlimited access to everything; everyone wants to be those people. I was their queen. Until now. "Welcome to Loser Club, gorgeous."

**the note:** life has a tendency of taking over the pilot seat in your brain; also, fyi, it happens to be a bitch.

**disclaimer:** do not own.

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**crazy planet**

—TWO: _I am not always like this – it is something I became._

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"I am making you an offer you cannot refuse."

Words. Lines and verses, the bones of a poem, sentences and paragraphs, faint outline of a story's face, made up of them – like flesh, organs, blood, antibodies, hardened plans of skin, like tiniest cells of tumor words fill in every little gap. They are hallmarks of our own growth; from the nonsense syllables that we made at the sweet infant age to complex sentences of adulthood. Words identify our social class and level of education, simply saying, even our names and looks are made of words.

Words that used identify me are: Youngest Haruno-girl; Sakura; cool; blonde; gorgeous; confident; rich; smart; badass bitch; _Queen_; and so much more.

Perhaps this is one of those times when you need to turn on your heels and run like hell, and if you have time kick the guy where it hurts just in case he'll be faster than you but when he said that simple Godfather rip-off sentence I felt air leave my lungs as if I was kicked in the stomach – because maybe, just tiny little _maybe_, the sort that feels like it lives on life support and is supposed to give out any moment now, he can give me what I want.

What do I want?

I don't know…something. Just, not _this_. Not a life when everything is so damn hard and you want to cry every time you let yourself remember who you used to be, and whoever you are now, it's not you. After his ominous line we stayed silent for a while, I was at loss of words and border-lining insanity while he, I supposed, was waiting for me to make my next move. Like in fucking chess.

So what is this – his game? Could be. Do I care enough to find out? Definitely maybe. Is there a hope, in the bottom of my soul, that this mysterious man-boy will be my salvation? Yes. Definite yes. Will I act on it? No.

His shoes are weird. I noticed this because I lowered my gaze, no, not in embracement, but in a rather pathetic attempt to appear coy. His shoes are old, not just in term of fashion but the black leather is worn and rugged, and it seems the soles were fixed too many times for one lifetime, however, they are perfectly tailored, obviously special ordered, and _clean_. Surprisingly, there is not a spot of dirt of them, of course, they would not be glass-like shiny but somehow they seem proper. Old but proper and reliable, like a good riding horse that is given to children to learn – they sort they remember for the rest of their lives. "I do suppose that was an awful way to catch attention," it's a bare whisper and somehow when man-boy moved, ever so slightly, and it appeared as if it was his shoes that spoke.

"What do you want?"

"As if you don't know, Sakura." He outstretched his hand, palm inviting my only anchor in the sea of madness and schemes.

"What – the USB?" My fingers clinch the metal device, on the smooth champagne coloured surface of which _Haruno S. _was engraved in neat letters, and carefully I bent down, eyes still entwined with his, to slip it into my boot. I felt chills and goosebumbs crossed my skin then cold USB touched it. "Dream on, buddy." I spared a quick glance at the clock. Shit, too much time before the early birds will start waking up. "Why should I give you, a complete stranger, the device that can potentially save my life?"

"I understand you want revenge." No, duh. "Revenge on those who shamed you. Sakura, I can help you achieve that."

His sly smirk mirrored mine, "Now we are talking."

I really must have been mentally handicapped at the moment to follow him. Yet, I do still.

xxx

It never took take much effort, from my part, to look gorgeous; usually I settled with brushing my teeth and washing my face, still I turned heads on my way. I could see it in his eyes, which flicker every now and then, he studies my face thoroughly, inch after inch, – from the perfectly straight ski slope-nose and sharp, high cheekbones, to strong, narrow jaw and full lips – as if it's a precious art masterpiece and not once I saw a glimmer of emotions cross his features; his calculative gaze is laced with unwanted curiosity and cold logic instead of familiar admiration to which I am used. "You don't look the way I expected you too," the nameless man-boy said finally.

His eyes flickered from my eyes to sharp collarbones and back again; this gave me the opportunity to slip my hand in my coat-pocket, a moment later my fingers grasped the ring of my dorm keys. Not the best weapon but it's the only one I've got. "So my reputation precedes me. Wonderful," For most people I'm the crazy girl with crazy hair and behavior to match, "Shame can't say the same about you, Scarface. I have never heard of you,"

"Just as intended, Sakura,"

"So we are on first name basis, huh? Fine then, I'm Sakura, as you carefully pointed out, and your name is..?"

"None of your business."

"All right then Mr. None of your business." A sharp inhale followed by a bold but cliché line, "Who are you? I may have fallen off the radar but I am still Haruno Sakura, the biggest and the badest bitch around. I know everybody who is somebody."

An odd emotion escaped from the corners of his mouth – not a smile, not a frown – and he took a step closer. Reluctantly, I stepped back, but instead of cornering me he made a hand gesture that could be translated as _walk with me_. It's funny that the first thing I notice about males is their personality, how they talk and behave, completely missing their facial features, only when I take liking of them I start to analyze how compatible their physique is with mine. This behavior is so abnormally different and contrasts sharply with my attitude towards women, whom I am quick to judge, often by shallow and narcissistic standards to which I am used: their hair, eyes, skin, clothes, status and the ever popular self-answering question: _Is she prettier than me? …nah, she isn't_. When I did as I was asked – I took a step forward, then another, and I walked right near the strange man-boy and sunlight hit the left side of my face, blinding me for a moment – only then, he answered: "I am sure you are, Sakura, the devil himself beneath that pretty face but there is a faulty in your logic. I am nobody and I come from nowhere. You don't know me, but I know you, yes, the real you,"

He paused and it is when I started to notice the little things. How beautiful were the early strikes of sunlight on the cool stone of the hall; how my kneecaps rebelled and wanted to shake from cold; that it was idiotic to leave the dorm in nearing-winter without any tights; that I felt a shot of lightning pass through me as I anticipate his next words.

His eyes are dark and cruel, just like his voice. I think his face is familiar somehow but I can't still put my finger on it, "The real you is nothing more than an ambitious model with the world at her feet. Not the shy, broke girl from the Loser Dorm."

"While true, your speech was useless. So answer, before I will scream my lungs out, _who are you_?"

"Not a person who wishes to harm you—"

"Too vague," I piped in.

"—but will if necessary." He finished with a smooth tone. "To shed a little light on my persona you can know the basics. I am a senior here. And I am a man who desperately needs something in your possession." Desperate? He certainly doesn't look like it. "Or rather an ounce of information that your own weapon of mass destruction harbors. So I propose an alliance, I will help you regain your crown and in return you will…well, we can discuss how exactly will you help me later. So do you agree?"

I have to admit, he's _good_, no wonder I agreed without a second thought.

xxx

I love walking but what I hate is not knowing where I am going. So in the moments of the early dawning day, when the darkness is still present, I follow man-boy as he strides in unknown, to me, direction.

I think we are going west, but then again, I was never good at Geography. But it must be the West Wing because it's the least visited place on the campus; the portraits of previous Headmaster glare at us ever so sternly and some windows are seal shut – this feels like a tomb, a grave, a place where I will be most likely buried. Hey, I had my chance to run away, instead I agreed to this shaky alliance, might as well see why exactly did curiosity kill the cat.

Finally, inappropriately amused by that thought, I looked up from my path, a ray of sunlight hit my eye directly and I squinted; in the wake of the insignificant theft two of us stood: one an angelically beautiful creature, all legs and smiles, hidden in the shadows, the other one a tempting devil coloured in black and brown but surrounded by the oriole of purely white light above his crowned with dark hair head. An undeniable contrast.

At last, we stopped, man-boy opened a door and entered, expecting me to follow. I was right, this _is _the West wing. The abandoned wing. The snogging wing. The shagging wing. Well, you got the picture. I think I got it too.

"Listen, you, even if me just made a deal I will not—" I did not finish, because suddenly it came to my knowledge that we are not alone.

Man-boy is seriously tall, very, very tall, and he's big, like a proper boxer built, no wonder I did not see the table crowed with kids my age in the middle of the dark room, a light bulb hanging above their heads. How very conspirator-ish.

A big-boned, blue-eyed blonde girl turned her head to look at me; I think I know her from somewhere. She could be on the swim-team judging from her broad shoulders but I am more interested in horse-riding classes than any other sport as it is one of those where a girl looks extremely sexy in a skin-tight trousers.

Her dark eyes flicked to an equally blond guy near her and she said, loud enough for me to hear, "Look what the cat dragged in."

Instantly the whole table's eyes were on me. None of the Konohagukare dorm students were particularly unattractive, nor they were extremely beautiful – most of them were _normal_. And that was unsettling. I liked my company to be as easy on the eyes as I myself am, and wonderfully naughty in the ways we are superior to everyone else.

Clearly such traits were not appreciated in this group.

I suppressed a groan, which would have been my first sign of weakness – I have found my personal Hell on Earth. But then, with the corner of my eye I noticed another creature that appeared to be female: red hair, dark eyes, freckled skin, wicked smirk and attitude which would make Headmaster Tsuande pee in her pants – _Karin_. THE famous Karin.

I am fucked.

"Oh no…" escaped my lips before I could think.

"Oh _yes_," man-boy said uncharacteristically enthusiastically as he switched on the lights around the table and the room seemed to come alive, "Fantastic isn't this? Welcome, Haruno Sakura, to South-West part of the Academy, the part that was given to Konoha's own DISCO, which stands for Deductive Investigation of Social Crimes Organization, but commonly known as The Loser Club."

Kill me. _Now_.

***

**the ending note:** :( didn't update for a long while.

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